First Dance
by S. Faith
Summary: The wedding had been a long time coming, so Mark had to plan something a little extra special. (Takes place at the end of Bridget Jones's Baby.)


**First Dance (and other scenes from a wedding)**

By S. Faith, © 2016, 2017  
Words: 4,215  
Rating: M / R  
Summary: The wedding had been a long time coming, so Mark had to plan something a little extra special.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, though how dearly I do wish it were.  
Notes: Yeah, I started this last year, finished it earlier this year, then… forgot about it. Whoops!

* * *

 **I.**

The day had finally arrived. Even the vicar had made a note of it at the end of the ceremony: _finally, man and wife_. The vicar! He couldn't help but smile secretly to himself. Nothing about his relationship with her had been ordinary… and if he had anything to say about it, neither would their married life. _Especially no more breakups_ , he thought wryly.

He hoped to surprise her as much as she consistently surprised him. He couldn't wait to start, and he intended on starting immediately.

…

 **The previous month**

 _"Hello?"_

 _"Yes, um, this is Mark Darcy. Is this Fergus? Sharon's husband?"_

 _"Hey Mark," Fergus said, recognition evident in his voice. "If you're looking for Bridget, she's not here."_

 _"Actually, I have a favour to ask of you."_

 _"Me?" asked Fergus, disbelief evident in his voice. "How can I help, mate?"_

 _"I'd like your help arranging a little something for my bride-to-be," Mark explained, "but neither she nor your wife can know."_

 _"Understood," said Fergus. "So what is it you need?"_

 _As Mark explained, Fergus listened patiently. After Mark concluded his explanation, Fergus began to chuckle with amusement. "Oh, mate, this is brilliant," he said to explain. "I am_ _so_ _in."_

…

"So, Bridget, when are you doing the first dance?" asked Cathy, bright eyes sparkling, her fascinator wobbling as she asked.

Mark didn't answer, simply looked to his new wife.

"Pretty soon, I think," Bridget said. "Fergus is the DJ, so really, it could be anytime. Why do you ask?"

She grinned playfully. "The moment dancing starts, I intend on asking that beautiful hunk of a man, Jack."

Bridget laughed a little, placing her hand on Cathy's shoulder. Mark liked Cathy, even if she was a bit scary and was really much too much into Chinese food. Or she was into something that she liked to call 'Chinese food', but he didn't want to ask. He wasn't even sure he really wanted to know.

Mark happened to glance across to where the DJ was, and caught Fergus's eye. Fergus gave him the thumbs up; Mark nodded. "Think you'd better go and find Jack, Cathy," Mark said. "Bridget, I think it's time for our dance."

…

 _"So this isn't very complicated," Fergus said. "In fact I'm not sure why you need me to show you. In fact, you could just watch—"_

 _"I learn better by doing than just watching."_

 _Fergus nodded. "Right. Right. Well." He stood up to his full height. "Shall we begin?" He then reached over and switched on the music. "Right. So just watch me. Like I said. It's easy, but a little fast." He ran through the steps a couple of times, then looked to Mark. "Do you think you want to give it a try?"_

 _Mark put his fingers to his eyes. "This was a bad idea. I can't do this."_

 _"Sure you can."_

 _"I'll look completely ridiculous."_

 _"So?" said Fergus. "There's not a lot of dignity, it's true, but that's what makes it fun."_

 _Mark regarded him for a moment before uncrossing the arms that he hadn't even realised he'd crossed over his chest. And then he smiled. "All right. Why don't you show me one more time?"_

…

All went quiet, and then Fergus spoke.

"Hey, friends and family," he said. "Per tradition, the bride and the groom have the first dance of the evening. So I hope you've all had a good deal of food and drink and are ready for get out on the dance floor… but first, let's give it up for Bridget and Mark."

With a smile on his face—how could he not smile?—Mark reached for and took her hand. She was equally beaming as they strode to the middle of the dance floor.

The soft piano began, and they took the dancing posture and took only a few steps when Mark stopped again, just as the soft, romantic music halted with a record scratch—

Replaced instantly by the song Mark had conspired to interrupt at just this moment.

She looked bewildered. He only smiled. She turned, saying, "Fergus—"

But then Mark began to move, doing the skip-step with his hands crossed at the wrist.

"Gangnam Style."

The guests all went wild with noises of surprise and approval. Bridget smiled then brought her hands to her mouth. "Where did you learn this? How?" But she was laughing, and within half a beat she was moving along with him.

They held the reins; they mimed the lasso; all the while they laughed and danced in circles until the song wound down to an end, and everyone jumped up with applause and joined them in the dance.

Another fast-tempo dance song began and while the crowd of guests continued to dance, Bridget threw her arms around Mark's neck and kissed him.

"I love you," she said, tears of happiness flooding her eyes, "and I love that you can still manage to surprise me. What on _earth_ inspired this?"

"I was thinking about when I saw you at the christening, when we…" he said, trailing off; he did not need to say more. With his arm laced around her waist, he nodded away, then eased the two of them out of the middle of the dance floor, towards the perimeter of the marquee. Only then did he continue speaking to her. "Watching you dance… how uninhibited and free you were, how I longed to have as much fun as you were having." He raised a hand to her cheek, brushed a tender thumb against her skin. "It took me back to that day, all of those years ago, to when you were out on the lake in that boat with Daniel, laughing with the sunlight dancing in your hair, glittering on the water around you. You were so carefree, so happy. You still are, and you always will be. And I want to share in that with you. So I thought, what better way to begin than to have my first dance with you to the same song you were dancing to that night?"

"But you must have been mortified."

"I was, a little," he said, "even when I was only practising with Fergus, but I realised… what was the momentary embarrassment at my expense compared to the look of delight and joy on your face just now? It was totally worth it."

She laughed through more tears, then embraced him again.

 **II.**

…until they were interrupted by voices.

"Oh my God, I never knew you had it in you!" shrieked Tom.

"So _that's_ what my husband's been up to with you!" This from Sharon.

They drew back with a laugh to see that Tom and Sharon were not the only ones who had gathered around them. Jude was also there, and she was holding what Mark recognized as Bridget's mobile out, but seemed unsure about which of them to hand it to.

"Who is it?" asked Bridget.

"I don't know if you want to take it," she said, not answering the question.

"Oh, for Pete's sake." Mark reached forward and took the phone, saying, "Bridget Jones Darcy's phone."

The sardonic voice on the other end asked, "Is there ever a time I call Jones that you _don't_ pick up the call?"

It took Mark a beat to realise exactly to whom he was speaking, and he was flooded with conflicting emotions. "Leave it to you," Mark said in a stern voice, "to upstage my wedding by returning from the dead, Cleaver." But then he felt a smile overtake him. "Welcome back." Mark shot a glance to Bridget, who smiled broadly.

"Ask him to come! Come on, give it to me, I'll do it," she said, reaching and grabbing her phone. "Daniel, you total arsehole! I'm so glad you're not dead!" She laughed. "Come over to the wedding. I know your stupid posh car can get here before we roll up the marquee. You and Mark can do a dance-off!"

"I draw the line at a dance-off," Mark said, though he was smiling.

Bridget put down the call with a smile. "He's going to come," she said, then, in a moment of sudden doubt, said, "Oh, I hope you don't mind."

Mark smiled. "I've come to terms with our past, Bridget. Now it's time to look forward, to the future."

Despite his reassurance to Bridget, Mark couldn't help feeling a little nervous, even apprehensive. He hadn't had a friendly or congenial word with Daniel in more time than he liked to consider. It was obvious, at least to Bridget, because she asked, "You're not worried, are you?"

"No, of course not," he said, though it was obvious she thought he was lying.

She smiled. "Are you afraid you're going to default to 'punch Daniel in the face' as you have previously done in my presence?"

He chuckled a little. "What if I said yes?"

"I'd think you were being ridiculous, or had gone mad," she said with a wink. She slipped her hand through his elbow. "It'll be fine, I think. I think he's probably just as eager to let bygones be bygones, and move on with life."

He leaned and kissed her. He loved her optimism. It made him optimistic, too.

It was shortly after the cake cutting that Daniel appeared. At first Mark only knew he'd arrived by the murmur of conversation that evidently was following in his wake. And then he appeared in front of Mark; Daniel's expression was surprisingly unreadable, and for many minutes they just stood there as if sizing one another up. But then Daniel broke out in a grin, holding out a hand for a handshake. "Congratulations, Mark. The better man won."

Mark took it, then, to his surprise, felt himself being tugged forward and into a friendly embrace by his long-time mate. He felt emotion well in him that he didn't expect. "Thank you, Daniel," he said. "It's good to see you." He found that he really meant it.

As they both stood back, Daniel said, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm keen for a bit of cake then a dance with the bride, if that's all right," he said. He crossed an X over his heart with his thumb. "Promise, no funny business."

 **III.**

Well, this was weird. Going off for a dance with her ex and her new husband's archenemy, at her own wedding. But she was pleased that at long last they were finally making an effort to not be archenemies.

There had been murmurs among the wedding guests when Daniel had turned up; she imagined that they thought that the two men would come to blows. Thankfully, they had done the opposite.

"So, Jones, we have a lot to catch up on," Daniel said as he began to glide across the floor with her. Of course he could dance. "Something about a baby? Paternal confusion?"

She chuckled. "Leave it to me to pull that one off, right?"

"I suppose it's too late for me to be the godfather," Daniel said with a sigh. "And before you ask, I have turned over a new leaf, and I've sworn off of Mrs Darcys. I dropped the tradition after the last one. Not at all to my tastes. Rather like a more feminine version of him. _Slightly_ more feminine."

She playfully punched his upper arm. "You're terrible," she said, then confessed, "but I've missed it, really."

"I'd better be careful flirting with you, actually," he added, "or Mr Legal Brain might find some lawful way to force me to make up for the missed ex-Mrs D." They swung around again with a few steps before he continued with, "So where's the sprog?"

"Constance had him just a few minutes ago," Bridget said. "We can go and find him when the song's over."

"Can't wait to meet the little man. Any child mixing the two of you must be an insufferably perfect child, what with _looks_ and _brains_ and all."

Hearing Daniel say that made her smile, because she knew it was just his way.

The song drew to a close and it was only then that she noticed Mark at the edge of the dance floor. He had clearly been watching them, but his expression was a far different one than he would have had in the past: he had a slight smile playing on his lips, and a softness in his eyes. She decided that she liked this turn of events very much.

"Where's the baby?" she asked Mark as they approached.

"I just saw him with Constance," Mark said, pointing in the direction of the dessert bar.

"Of course he is," she said with a laugh. The boy was fascinated with the chocolate fountain. He was his mother's child, after all.

As soon as William saw his mother and father, his face lit up with a big smile, and he toddled over to her with an outstretched finger that was covered with chocolate. "Mama!" he said delightedly.

"Hello, darling," she cooed, popping the tiny fingertip into her mouth to clean it up before sweeping him up into her arms, holding him against her hip. "There's someone I'd like you to meet," she said, smoothing his messy blond hair down. Then she turned to face Daniel. "Do you know who this is, darling? This is your Uncle Daniel."

Her eyes dashed between watching Daniel's reaction and watching William's. Her son seemed to have been blessed with his mother's open and friendly disposition, and he smiled at the newcomer.

For his part, Daniel's expression didn't change overly much, but she saw his eyes were glossing over with emotion. "Hello, little man," he said.

William reached a hand out toward Daniel, then proclaimed with a smile, "Fuck!"

Mark burst out with a laugh, to her surprise. "I can't imagine where he picked that up."

"Do you want to take him?" Bridget asked Daniel.

"If you think I won't damage him."

"You're not going to damage him just by holding him," she said. "And I doubt even you'd take a toddler out on the town, boozing it up. Now, here." Bridget handed the baby over.

A changed overcame him as William settled into his arm, resting on Daniel's hip as his mother had held him. His features softened up, a smile unlike any she'd seen warmed his face. "Well, hello William," he said. Bridget glanced to Mark, and she saw that he, too, had tears in his eyes and a smile playing on his lips. "Don't you look the dapper chap? Aren't you a fine little fellow."

"Fuck," William said again. Bridget stifled a laugh.

"Now, now, that's not the sort of thing a little gentleman such as yourself should be saying," Daniel said. "Save that one for when you're older. _Much_ older."

A pop song started up—Madonna's "Holiday"—and William squealed with delight. Bridget supplied, "He loves this song! He wants to dance."

So Daniel began to dance around with William in his arms. It was ridiculous but they were both having a ball. It was infectious, and soon after the majority of the guests were dancing along. At the end of the song, a great cheer went up followed by applause.

 **IV.**

The night was winding to a close, and the time was coming for the bride and the groom to depart. Tom and Eduardo had offered to take William for the wedding night weekend; the three of them departed before Mark and Bridget did, since William was so excited at the thought of playing with his 'cousin' Pedro he would not have time to be sad that his parents were going off without him.

Not that they were going far.

Mark had asked her what she wanted for their honeymoon. He had expected to hear something a bit exotic and memorable (and therefore, unavoidably expensive), but instead she only asked they stay at the same country house hotel that the christening party had been held in. "In the same room, if it's available," she had added. "It was a really nice suite, what I recall of it, and I'd really love to wake up in it with you properly."

He could only smile then, and he smiled now, her hand firmly in his as the hired limousine carried them from the reception to the country house. He glanced to her; she was so quiet that he thought perhaps she had dozed off. Instead, though, she was looking pensively out of her window and out onto the moonlit countryside.

"Good day," she said softly, as if sensing his gaze was upon her.

"Very good day," he agreed, squeezing her hand gently.

The limousine turned into the drive, and to his surprised as they drew up to the main door, the staff seemed to be lined up in anticipation of their arrival. "Well," Mark said drolly. "This seems very _Downton Abbey_ , doesn't it?"

Bridget giggled.

One of the staff came forward and spoke. Her nametag read CATHERINE, and proclaimed that she was the head of hospitality. "Congratulations," she said with a smile, shaking Bridget's hand, then Mark's. "The room you requested is ready and waiting, though I must say we were all a little surprised you didn't want the honeymoon suite."

"Oh, it's a very special room," said Bridget. "It's the room where—"

"Our reunion began in earnest," Mark interrupted.

"Our son was conceived that night," Bridget added with a smile and an air of confidentiality.

Mark could feel the heat run to his face, but he couldn't be angry, nor was he surprised. She was who she was, and she would never change. He didn't want her to.

"Oh, that's lovely," Catherine said, smiling broadly. The other of the staff were clearly fighting off smiles or giggles of their own.

Along with a young porter who carried their bags, Catherine led the pair up to their room, leaning forward and opening the door for them before handing the key to Mark. "If you like," she said, "I can take a photo for you to remember this moment by."

"Moment?" asked Mark.

"You know, carrying your new bride over the threshold."

Unexpectedly, Bridget chuckled. "I think he's carried me enough for one lifetime. Unless you'd like to give Jack a call…?"

Catherine looked unexpectedly confused, so Mark briefly explained before he turned back to his new wife. "Come closer," he said.

"Why?"

"Traditions must be preserved," he said, then bent to swing her up into his arms. Before crossing into the room, however, he lowered his head and gave her a kiss on the lips. "No photography required."

It was only when he set her down that he realized the extent of the preparation the hotel had done for their arrival: a bucket with chilled sparkling wine, tall flutes, and a bowl of chocolate-dipped strawberries. There seemed to be fresh flowers in vases on every flat surface of the room, and the scent of them perfumed the air with intoxicating sweetness. Candles in protective glass lanterns cast a soft glow over the room. The entire scene was perfect and gorgeous.

Mark turned to thank Catherine but realized that she had already withdrawn, as had the porter, who had deposited the bags just inside the door. He smiled, reached to hang the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door handle, then closed the door. "Well, darling, here we are," he said, "alone at last."

Bridget laughed lightly, sitting heavily down onto the bed. She slipped out of her shoes. "Seems like the first time in days," she said.

Mark sat beside her, reaching down to untie his own shoes, then removed them and set them aside. "Shall I pour some champagne? Want a berry or two?"

"Oh, yes, please." She attempted to slip out of the bolero jacket that was part of her wedding dress, but was clearly having a hard time of it.

"Here. Let me help with this first." He stood again, reached over and tugged down on the sleeves. He laid the jacket gently over the arm of the sofa that was in the room. He came close to her again as she was drawing the Kirby grips out of her hair; he ran his fingers along the underside of her bare arm tenderly. "You really just looked stunning today."

As she took out the last of the pins, she shook her hair out; it fell down around her shoulders. She lowered her arms and smiled at him. He appeared to have become mesmerised by the action of letting her hair down. "Champagne?" she prompted. "Berries?"

He smiled, laughing a little. "Right."

Mark turned and popped the bottle open, topped up two flutes, then brought one over to her. He put a stopper in the bottle, grabbed the bowl of berries and brought it over to sit beside her again.

Mark held up his flute as he met her gaze with his own. She smiled, as did he. "Here's to the first night of the rest of our lives," he said, then touched his flute to hers.

"Hear, hear," she said, then lifted her flute and took a long draw. "Wow," she said, picking up a strawberry by its leafy green top. "Listen to that."

"Listen to what?"

"Exactly," she said. "Silence. Lovely, lovely silence." She took a bite. "Lovely, lovely chocolate strawberry."

Mark plucked one up and took a big bite out of it. "Oh. That is nice."

She raised her thumb to catch a drip of strawberry juice that had escaped his lower lip. He parted his lips slightly and she popped the edge of her thumb in for him to lick it off.

Despite all of their years together, despite all of the ups and downs, a simple action like this was still enough to charge the room with the electricity of their attraction. Each action has an equal and opposite reaction, of course, and within short order the rest of her wedding dress joined its mate on the sofa, and his tuxedo did too.

The rest of the bottle of champagne, the rest of the berries, would have to wait. In fact, when they ordered breakfast some time later, they decided to improvise mimosas with the rest of the bubbly, and added the strawberries to their morning meal.

Bridget sighed, then rested back against the pillows, cradling her cup of coffee in both hands. "That has got to be one of the loveliest nights of my life," she said. "And waking in this room is more wonderful than I could have ever dreamed."

 **Epilogue**

Lightning apparently did strike twice. It probably didn't hurt that the circumstances that conspired to draw that lightning had been reproduced almost exactly.

Bridget pushed aside the faint warning bells that suggested history was repeating itself. It seemed much more probable that she was running a bit of a stomach flu than the alternative. William was still so young, so they were still using protection.

Except when they hadn't… on their wedding night.

She called to make the appointment while Mark was at work; due to a cancellation the office was able to get her in that afternoon.

"Well," said Dr Rawlings as she came into the examination room with Bridget's folder in her hand. "Going for a matched set? How many fathers may be in the running this time?"

Bridget laughed a little at the teasing. She held up her left hand to show off the wedding ring. "Just the one this time, Doctor," she said.

But the visit had produced results.

When he heard the news, Mark looked like he could not believe his good fortune, and was silent for a full thirty seconds before he snapped out of the fugue enough to take her in his arms. "Oh, darling," he said, holding her close. "What a wonderful surprise. How long had you suspected?"

She drew back. "Not long. But it was just like with little Billy. You know. The nausea, mostly. Thought it best to see the doctor to confirm."

When she called Shazzer to share the good news, her friend could only laugh. "From your wedding night?" Shazzer asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"The same room, the same hotel?"

"Yes? So?"

"Well, obviously the room is charmed. Special powers. Like, maybe ley lines or something."

She laughed and called it ridiculous.

When she called Jude, though, she said the same thing. Almost. "That room's obviously cursed, Bridge," Jude said, then sighed. "Well, congratulations, I _suppose_ , though you can't say I never warned you about these little goblins. You haven't seen the worst of it yet."

"Thank you," said Bridget; she knew her friend was actually pleased for them, even with the sombre tone.

Tom's enthusiasm was unconstrained, as was Miranda's, but no one seemed happier to hear than, of all people, Daniel.

"Bloody fantastic," he said. "Can't wait to take her under my wing."

"Her?"

"I have a sixth sense, that's all," he said. "And I mean as her _godfather_ , before you think less of me. She'd be a daughter to me."

From beside her, Mark spoke up. He was smirking. "Well, I'm glad to know there are lines even you won't cross," he said drolly. "And of course."

 **The End.**


End file.
